


Noble Maiden Fair

by SapphicScavenger



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens (TV) RPF, Historical RPF
Genre: Angst, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Historical, Internal Conflict, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Parent-Child Relationship, They/Them Pronouns for Michael (Good Omens), War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 18:28:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21396697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphicScavenger/pseuds/SapphicScavenger
Summary: Jeanne is a teenage peasant girl from the French countryside. She wants to stay at home and be a normal girl. But when Heaven calls her to fight, she must aside her own desires for God Herself.Michael is the General of Heaven. They want nothing to do with humans or the Earth. But when they find themself sent to earth to guide a teenage girl from France, they find it hard to not become attached to the young woman despite all odds.
Relationships: Archangel Michael & Joan of Arc
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	Noble Maiden Fair

It had started in a garden in the year 1425 A.D. It was a warm summer’s day and in a peasant’s garden sat a young girl weaving a flower crown. Her fingers were calloused from her life of hard work yet gentle as she worked the daisy stems into a braid. The sun shone on her dark hair, giving the illusion of a halo around her head and a ghost of a smile was on her face as she hummed to herself. “Jeanne,” She heard a voice whispering her name in her ear and turned to see which of her siblings was pestering her but found no one. When she turned back to her task, the smile on her face fading, somebody sat before her.  
A lovely person seemingly indistinguishable from male or female dressed in robes of pure white. Chestnut curls cascaded down their shoulders, framing their pale face. Their eyes were as blue as the sky and along their cheeks and lips were golden flecks. The sun framed them from behind as if they were coming down from the heavens themselves. They gave a pearly smile.  
“Jeanne D’Arc, be not afraid.” They said, their light voice soothing to the ears of the virgin.  
“Who are you and why have you come here?” Jeanne’s voice quivered, ignoring the person’s command.  
“My name is Michael and I am sent by God, for at this moment you are most blessed among men and women alike.”  
“Why has God sent you, O Holy Saint?” The Archangel gave Jeanne a smile and took her hands. Their own hands felt warm and soft, and Jeanne felt a rush of peace come over her.  
“Jeanne D’Arc, The Almighty has seen how England has oppressed your people. How they conquer your country while you, unlike others, are blissfully unaware of their treachery. The Almighty has created you for this purpose; to fight for your faith, your country, and your people.”  
“I have faith in our Lord above anything, your Holiness, but why choose me, a peasant girl with no knowledge other than Church and farming? Surely there are many soldiers in His favor enough to fight for the liberation of France. Surely I have no future but to marry and tend to children and the hearth as the Priest says we women must.”  
“In God’s eyes, men and women are as equal. All you humans are one in the eyes of Heaven, Hell, and God. Your circumstances of birth do not define you, Jeanne, and God can only think of one so faithful and blessed as to do this task. You will not be alone in this journey for I will be here to guide you and soon others will be sent to help as well. Have faith, little soldier. We will prevail.”  
The Archangel opened six wings of sky blue and lustrous gold and pressed a gentle kiss to Jeanne’s forehead before disappearing in a light shower of golden sparkles that blew away with the wind. Jeanne felt tears dripping down her face as she stared after where the saint had been. She bowed before the spot where they had been and kissed the earth where they knelt. Pushing aside her doubt for fear of disappointing her God, she got up. The fight had started and no longer would she lead the life planned for a peasant maid.  
_________________________________  
Three years had passed. Jeanne looked out over the battlefield and the fight that raged on, men throwing themselves onto death’s doorstep for the slightest hope of the liberation of France. The cold wind caused tears to form in her dark blue eyes, but blinking them away, she raised her flags higher. A soldier in shining silver armor appeared next to her.  
“The enemies are weakening. They shall retreat and surrender within a fortnight.” The soldier spoke, their light voice soothing to the battle hardened teenage girl. Jeanne seemed to almost relax and the flags lowered slightly. She turned to the soldier, who she had first met on a summer afternoon not so long ago.  
“Thank you, Michael.” The girl gave a relieved smile to her companion. The heavenly knight gave her a sweet smile, steely blue eyes that had so often struck fear into the hearts of enemies in combat gazed fondly on the teenager. Jeanne’s gaze returned to the battlefield and she paused, pursing her lips.  
“Michael?”  
“Yes Jeanne?”  
“This plan will succeed, will it not?” The tension in the girl’s shoulders had returned.  
“Of course. If the Almighty is on our side, so it shall be.” The Archangel’s tension also returned.  
“But will I succeed? Should I fail, even once, would I still be in heaven’s favor?” The soldier pursed their lips and thought for a minute.  
“All of heaven, I cannot speak for. But you, Jeanne D’Arc, shall always remain in my favor. For you are a rarity, one of my favorite humans. I promise you that you will always hold my affections, my child.” Jeanne allowed a wide smile to slip through her hardened armor that she carried for battle and she allowed one hand to slip free from the flags she carried and reach out towards Heaven’s General as if possibly, under all the armor and medals, she was still a scared child. Michael took her hand in their own as if, for a moment, they were a concerned parent trying to comfort their terrified child.  
As the sun was high in the February sky, the battle raged on around them. But for even just a slight moment, unnoticed in all the mayhem, the two soldiers put down their internal armor and allowed themselves to be as vulnerable as newborn rabbits, only having each other for warmth and light in the dark times of war.  
____________________________________  
For Michael it had started out as just work. But the Archangel had underestimated their charge. They had stayed by Jeanne’s side for three years, protecting her from all harm so that she may do as God wished. Nothing had prepared them for how attached they had grown to the young woman. To be attached was a human error and supposedly above the General of Heaven, but they found themself unable to stay away from their charge for long. Of course, Michael denied the fact they had become attached to a human and would scold their younger Archangel siblings when they snickered and teased that Michael was going soft. They weren’t soft. They were the general of Heaven and Generals of Heaven did certainly not go soft.  
It fully hit them all at once three months after the victory at Orleans. They had left Jeanne’s side for only ten minutes when they heard a sharp cry of pain. They turned from their opponent in time to see Jeanne fall from her horse, an arrow in her shoulder. Michael sprang into action, escaping their human foe and rushing to catch the girl before she hit the ground. Jeanne was caught in inhumanly strong arms and carried across the battlefield to a medic.  
“Stay strong, cherie.” The soldier encouraged their wounded charge, not giving thought to the mocking that would inevitably come later from those who didn’t get attached to humans. That night, as Jeanne rested, Michael stayed by her side without moving for anyone and needing neither sleep nor food.  
_____________________________________  
Jeanne stood tied to the stake. A man below her pyre read the charges of heresy and cross-dressing against her. Wood was added to the growing pile around her feet. In her heart, though she had desired to be at home with her mother and siblings, she knew she had completed the duty God had given her. Her lust for a normal life had lost the battle and now all she could do was hope God was proud of the work she had done, though she doubted it for if God had been proud surely Michael would have saved her before this point. As she looked to the blue skies with tears running down her cheeks, a torch was thrown onto the pyre. The flames spread quickly across the dry wood, eager to consume her. She opened her mouth to give her last deliverance to the human race.  
“Oh, Rouen, Rouen, must I die here, and must you be my tomb? Ah, Rouen, Rouen, I have great fear that you will suffer for my death.” Jeanne muttered to the universe, closing her eyes. The harsh wind blew smoke into her face stinging her already tear filled eyes and choking her.  
“Water! Give me Holy Water!” a cry escaped her lips. Nobody dared to bring her water, not even as The Son had been given wine vinegar at his death.  
“I would rather have my head chopped off seven times than burn.” She mumbled sarcastically, deserving one act of irony in her whole life of honesty and virtue. Jeanne looked to the crowds, eyes stinging.  
“Please, your honors, a cross. Bring me a cross. Now keep it always in my sight until the end.” This she was brought. She stared off at it hoisted for her to see in the air. A Bishop stepped onto the steps of the pyre as the flames melted the flesh on her feet.  
“I am come, Jeanne, to exhort you for the last time to repent and seek the pardon of God.” He called to her. Jeanne wanted to laugh, but abstained for that act of irony would damn her. She stared, her dark blue eyes boring into the Bishop’s soul by looking into his own hazel.  
“I die through you.” She spat bitterly.  
___________________________________  
In Jeanne’s time of dying, she believed Heaven had abandoned her. She did not see a tall figure dressed in a silver dress at the very outskirts of the crowd. The woman, as they appeared to the surrounding humans, watched the fire with tears falling down their pale cheeks. They watched the girl they had come to know as a comrade and a daughter be consumed by the flames. In an hour, when all was done, they vanished as if they had never been there. They had won their war too, and never again would they become attached to humans.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for English Class and used Michael’s appearance in Good Omens for the one described here.  
For those wondering, I got a 97/100 on the assignment.  
Edit: It took me a while to get it formatted right on here sorry XD


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